Card Pyramid
by sychofrantic
Summary: Sometimes it can all fall apart. SLASH, INCEST, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, VIOLENCE, TRIGGERING CONTENT ETC. But give it a shot, yeah? Seth&Ryan, Seth&Summer, Seth&Sandy. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

**Card Pyramid**

Disclaimer: Not mine, not me, not I etcetera.

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Seth/Summer, Implied Seth/Ryan, Seth/Sandy

Warnings: Incest, violence, angst to the nth degree.

Summary: Sometimes it can all fall apart.

A/N: Sorry for the repeated page breaks, that's the way the story's structured and ff[dotnet won't let me do it any other way.

**Part 1**

When Ryan left, it's like everything good left with him.

You don't think he's being serious?

* * *

A fleeting need to escape, anywhere and now, was crushed by the sight of his mother and father in each other's arms. Just standing there and, well, crying. White-fisted, white-faced, just standing there alone together. 

He makes no sound but for the whoosh and plop of the duffel bag as it hit the floor.

He regrets it now. The not leaving.

* * *

Seth is usually fairly hydrated, so he's sure some divine power, who was perhaps not so divine at that moment, orchestrated his thirst at this particular time on this particular night so he could see his father asleep on the couch. 

His heart stops for a moment when he thinks it is Ryan.

His heart stops for longer when he realises it's his dad, his hair dark against the sofa's pillows, still visible in the almost-light.

He goes back without a drink, breathing, wondering what is going on.

* * *

He eats alone with a post-it telling him to 'put it in the microwave for ten minutes' for five days before he asks his mom what was up. 

"Nothing," she supplies helpfully, mixing another one of her numerous drinks that are disguised with pretty umbrellas and bright colours, but when it comes down to it, are just poison.

He decides not to push it. Not when she's like this. He needs to wait for the right moment.

* * *

He can no longer wait for the right moment, because the right moment never comes. His father stays late up at the office, and comes into his room in the middle of the night and sits on his bed, saying nothing to Seth's assumed-to-be sleeping form. He doesn't know Seth hasn't slept for two days. 

She's on the couch now, where his father slept the other night, her pale body and cream pantsuit fading into the leather. The drink is a bright blue, and ironically the only spot of colour around her.

"Are you okay?"

"Fine, sweetie." She slips into endearments when she's not paying attention.

"Something's wrong," he insists.

She looks at him sharply, "Everything is fine, sweetie."

Seth can't decide what to do with the two extra words he's given, so he gets up and walks away.

* * *

Summer comes over while his mother is passed out. 

"Hi," she says, with a brightness that's more than welcome here.

He buries his face in her hair and just breathes. She smells like her namesake, and feels warmer.

"Hey," she says softly, in a tone reserved for him, "Hey, what's wrong?"

He clings to her tighter, but says nothing.

* * *

His mother has taken to pushing him. 

It's nothing, really. If he's standing a little… widely between the narrower area around the kitchen island eating a bagel, she'll gently sweep her arm across in front of her so he steps aside.

He's stopped asking for politeness or even acknowledgment. Largely due to the drink clutched in her hand that she's not even bothered to colour any more.

But the umbrella falls out and flicks him with the drink as she bustles past. He puts it in the bin.

She doesn't bother with umbrellas after that.

* * *

His father came in one night and rested his hand on Seth's head. His eyes flew open, the corners of his vision quivering. 

"You remind me of her," his father says, his hand unmoving in Seth's hair.

Seth doesn't understand, or rather, he chooses not to.

Sandy leaves.

Seth won't sleep again tonight.

* * *

Ryan phones. 

"Hey man," he says, his voice coarse and just as he remembered.

"Hey," he chokes out.

"Are you okay?"

"Fine," he lies.

* * *

His mother pushes him that day. For real. 

He's eating a bagel, as per usual, and he steps out of her way as she comes through. But her hand moves with surprising force, thumping against his shoulder and knocking him into the corner of the island.

His first instinct is to fight back, but she's already taken herself away on her tiny, feminine ankles, drink in hand and the incident more or less ignored. Besides, she's his mother, he adds to himself.

He rubs his hip.

Seth looks for a bruise that night and doesn't find one.

* * *

He waits for an apology he doesn't get, knowing full well he isn't going to get it in a place where his mother doesn't come any more. Thank god Seth's logic hasn't been impaired since... 

Well.

He's on Ryan's bed, the folded sheets on the floor and his head hanging over the edge so blood rushed to it and made it heavy.

Later, he takes Summer there to have sex.

"This is a bit screwed up, Cohen," she points out, looking uncertain.

He shrugs and pulls her down onto it anyway.

He grips Ryan's pillow when he comes.

* * *

Sandy comes into his room again, hand back in his hair. His fingers flex slightly, which breaks the rule Seth made in his head when this started. 

'Don't,' he mouths into the darkness, not aloud because he's worried it won't make a bit of difference, and if it didn't then he would have to put a name on what his dad is actually _doing_ here.

His father chooses not to comply, anyway.

Seth feels cold.

* * *

Today, it was in the ribs. 

He wasn't sure if she meant to hit there, the action made her spill her brown drink down the sleeve of her white cotton blouse.

He leads her to the laundry by her hand, side throbbing furiously in her wake, and removes the garment before trying to find a replacement in the ironed basket. She stands there, hair covering her face and in an old grey bra that sinks into her complexion.

Seth dresses her efficiently before she smacks his hands away, her mouth opened as she almost says something.

Almost says something, but not quite.

* * *

When he's at the beach one day, he sees Marissa. 

Their eyes meet across the shimmering sand and nothing is said.

He stops going to the beach.

* * *

Ryan phones again. 

"The baby is the size of a peanut," Ryan states proudly.

"That's great," he says, meaning it.

"Listen, why don't you come up this weekend? Stay for a few days."

No, because Ryan wouldn't come back with him. Or, Seth might not leave. Seth might not leave and that's a bad thing, why? It's bad because it's not a bad thing. It stopped being a bad thing when stuff changed, when Ryan left, when…

Well… yeah.

He declines quietly and doesn't tell either of his parents.

* * *

That night, Sandy's hand slips onto his bare back. 

Seth starts wearing shirts.

* * *

His mother makes a mistake, and hits him in the face. It burns like hell but leaves a bruise that's fiercer than it is. It's an odd place to have a bruise, not like in the movies where it lines a broken nose or wraps itself around a black eye. It's like an extension of his mouth. He looks like the Joker. Well, half the Joker because it's only on his left side. Maybe Two-Face? 

Summer responds with a succinct 'Ew' before she kisses the bruise and her tears wet it.

It makes him feel worse when she sucks his cock, because he can only think of Ryan.

So he breaks up with her.

* * *

Ryan phones again. 

Seth speaks to him quickly in Spanish before hanging up.

He thinks he said 'You grow baked potatoes'.

* * *

When his father's hand brushes his stomach under his 'Emily the Strange' shirt, Seth's bruises thump.

* * *

His mother has taken to using the thing's she's holding in her hand. 

Sometimes he's lucky, and it's a newspaper and it only slaps him quickly. Other times, he's not so lucky, and it's a delicate champagne glass that breaks easily on flesh that this house seems to have an unlimited supply of.

She still does it the old fashioned way, too. Only the other day, she pushed him so he fell awkwardly on his arm. He couldn't move it properly for two days and couldn't draw Ryan for weeks.

Yeah, he still does that.

* * *

When his eye is swollen shut the day before school starts, he wishes he was enough of an asshole to hit his mom back. Or enough of a jerk to ignore and avoid her completely like his dad. 

The thought of being like his dad makes him dry-heave, so he goes to pick his mother up from the floor and carries her to bed.

She smiles sweetly in her sleep, and then throws up on Seth's lap.

* * *

He looks down at his father, car keys in one hand and a small carry bag in another. 

"You want to fuck me?" Seth rasps.

Sandy hesitates, self-disgust and need in his eyes, the dark making it even more real. "Yes."

Seth leaves.

Nobody follows him.


	2. Chapter 2

See Chapter 1 for warnings etc.

**Part 2**

Seth drives and drives. He drives then he drives. He drives and then he contemplates how weird it sounds if you repeat drives often enough, and then Seth drives.

He drives and tries not to think.

* * *

Seth decides to bypass Chino completely. But then, Seth has always been fickle, so it came as no surprise, least of all to him, that he was checking himself into the Chino Paradise Motel at 3.00am. 

His parents wouldn't have been surprised either, but then, they're not here, are they?

* * *

He often seriously considers going back, simply because for some reason sleeping on this urine-stained bed provokes dreams. Nightmares, actually. 

They're flashes of images and sound, as dreams often are. It's pressured and thick and vaguely arousing, and he can't figure out why because his fathers face are etched into his eyes, such as with a dark 2B pencil that crumbles when you press it to hard, or just rips through the paper.

When he wakes up, his cheeks warmed by tears, he commends himself on the analogy.

After he runs to the bathroom to throw up, of course.

* * *

Seth wished he had the commitment to find a job (like those kids he sees on TV that run away and end up working in a sleazy diner, where they find their soulmates or their home away from home or whatever) for two reasons. 

One: his parents cancelled his card.

Two: They would have paid him in cash, had he expressly demanded it. Then, while he was buying some groceries, it wouldn't have mattered if his card didn't work, and the new cashier wouldn't have made a fuss, so it wouldn't have made Seth take that little bit longer to get out of the store so he would be standing there, prepared to just say 'screw this' and walk out , while Teresa walked in, intent to pick up some milk (one litre of full cream for her, and one litre of lite for Ryan, who thought full cream tasted like butter. Teresa agreed, but she had to drink full cream. It was good for the baby).

"Seth!" she gasps.

She's still hot, despite the slightly rounded tummy, and she glows against the drabness of the grocery store.

And yeah, Seth still hates her.

* * *

Seeing Ryan wasn't epiphany Seth had hoped for. 

He looked the same. He had a bit of a beard and was even tanner, and he sat on the floor eating cherry ripe ice-cream straight from its container. Something was there, though, something Seth could learn to hate in time, so much so that he almost runs straight back out the door. But then Ryan looks up.

He stares at Seth.

Seth stares back.

"Want some?" he asks, offering the spoon.

He nods and takes the spoon.

* * *

When Seth dreams, he dreams of warmth and all things associated with it. 

His mother's hugs, his fathers humour, Summer's hair, Anna's laughter, Luke's fists, his grandfather's handshake, Ryan.

Ryan, Ryan, Ryan.

He wakes up burning.

* * *

"So, how are Sandy and Kirsten?" 

To his credit, he doesn't flinch, "Fine."

He pours milk over his weet-a-bix before shaking about half a cup of sugar in the bowl. He really needs to talk to Ryan about the value of a cereal that is 50 artificial. Turns out he needs no such advice.

"It's for Teresa. She needs to stay healthy. For the baby."

Well, yeah. Obviously.

* * *

"So, Seth… what are your plans?" Teresa asks, going for subtlety. 

"Dunno," he lies.

He leaves that night while they sleep.

* * *

Seth's sitting alone in his motel room when there's a knock at the door. 

He has a map spread out in front of him and deliberating over whether to take route 71 along Grand Avenue, or Route 60 along Walnut Avenue. His destination is Corona, and they both lead there.

He is on the verge of choosing Grand Avenue, simply because it sounds manlier, when the knock came.

He goes against his better judgment and opens it.

It's Sandy.

Seth bursts out laughing.

* * *

He needs no persuasion. He follows his father without complaint. 

That'll be the name of his biography; Seth Cohen: He follows.

He doesn't know who will write it, though. Maybe a jock who grows a conscience in his adult life, and wonders what exactly happened to that kid he used to torture on a daily basis. Or maybe Summer will, using that cleverly disguised brain of hers when she's bored. Maybe Ryan, when he realises the perfect nuclear family isn't really what he needs and his discontent explodes in a tidal wave of creative bliss.

Or maybe, nobody will.

When the heat of his father's hand burns him through his 501's, Seth's pretty sure he wants it that way.

* * *

His mom is holding a bottle full of wine two days after his return, and it collides with the side of his face like her punches do, only harder. 

Seth feels drunk as he lays paralysed on the floor, getting up only as the sun makes his eyes sting.

* * *

Summer finally finds him and practically tackles him in the hallway with two mochas laced with foam and cocoa. 

"Why haven't you called me, doofus? It's been like a zillion years," she says, handing him one.

"I broke up with you."

"Puh-lease, I broke up with you," she fibs, "Anyway, it doesn't mean we can't still be friends."

Her eyes have been dancing around the lump on his forehead before they land on it and widen. It feels like she just poked it, and he winces.

"No more avoiding me," she adds, tearing her eyes away. "Come over to mine today."

He nods.

* * *

Summer's step mom reminds Seth of his own mom. How she is now, that is. Except she makes a lot less sense. To be fair, Kirsten only makes sense because she doesn't bother opening her mouth. 

"Hello kiddies!" she says jubilantly, a coloured drink in one of her fists, "Would you like some sandwiches?"

Summer grabs his arm and he realises it's because he's pressed himself against the wall. Then he realises it's not a drink in her hand, but a bottle of pills. They rattle as she sways.

"No thanks, Vera!" Summer snarls, dragging Seth behind her upstairs.

"Cheerio!" she says from behind them.

"She's such a bitch!" Summer exclaims when the door is safely closed behind her, "She's got no clue like, at all!"

Seth nods and stretches himself face down over her bright pink bed, the corner of 'the Valley' box set poking him slightly in the cheek. Summer moves it away and lies next to him on the bed.

Her hand rests on his spine and he shivers.

"Want to sleep over?"

He does, which he regrets, because Summer's dad comes in. He doesn't really buy that it's all innocent, even though she's wearing her Tweetie bird pyjamas and he's still in his jeans and they're on opposite sides of the bed.

His fists collide hard. More like Luke's than like his mother's.

**Bam.**

"Teach you to…"

**Bam.**

"You stay away from…"

"Dad, stop!" someone shrieks, and he realises it's him.

**Bam.**

* * *

Seth wakes up in hospital with Ryan staring at him from the foot of the bed. 

Of course, it's not real. Ryan disappears the minute his dad walks in.

"Don't worry, son," he says, "We'll get him. He won't get away with this."

"Will you?" he wants to ask, but it sticks in his throat like so many things.

* * *

He makes sure the case is dropped. The injuries were only minor, and he only passed out because Summer's dad had aggravated the head wound his mother already gave him. 

Summer's step-mom keeps sending brownies that rot on the doorstep until Seth finds them and throws them in the bin. Summer keeps coming over, and he watches her walk dejectedly away from his house through the window of his bedroom.

The phone rings a few times but he doesn't pick it up.

Sandy makes him face downwards and gets on top of him, stroking him and rubbing him and saying 'shhh' like it makes a difference. Like he's providing Seth comfort.

His mom tries to stab him with a broken glass, and he backhands her to the floor.

"Get the fuck away from me!" he screams.

It's not real, and the glass buries only half an inch into his arm, but it's enough to make him bleed.

Make him bleed and wonder, wonder, wonder…


	3. Chapter 3

See Chapter 1 for warnings etc.

**Part 3**

Seth makes a list and doesn't risk putting a title on it

_- Drowning_

_- Pills_

_- Alcohol poisoning_

_- Gun_

_- Traffic_

_- Slit wrists (messy)_

He quietly observes the list before crushing it into a ball and throwing it in a bin.

_

* * *

_

_- Asphyxiation_

_- Hanging_

_- Cut throat_

_- Poison_

_- Building/bridge_

He throws the list in the bin, along with several others, but it doesn't stop him dreaming in red. The red that's everywhere.

* * *

"Wait, I get it now," Seth says, tearing out his headphones and stumbling over to where Ryan stands, "I get what I have to do. Don't leave." 

Ryan tenses, looking down, "Seth…"

"No, see, nobody's tried that yet. It's all 'I get it' or 'I wish you didn't have to' but never 'Don't leave' so," he breaths, his eyes wide, "Don't leave."

"Seth," he repeats more firmly, "I have to."

"No, you really don't. Stay here… you haven't tried the staying thing, you shouldn't just ignore staying just because it, um, doesn't coincide with your morals. Ooh, I know! Both of you can stay here, it'll be like that movie…or-or was it a sitcom? Yeah, a sitcom. I'll be the quirky uncle who's a bad influence… Marissa can be the ditzy and somewhat alcoholic aunt! It'll be perfect!"

"Seth," he whispers, his voice cracking, "Shut up."

His mouth snaps shut, before opening almost immediately after, "Dude. Hanson," he reminds Ryan quietly, edging forward, "Mmm bop, ba duba bop…"

Ryan laughs sadly, dragging his hand over his face, "I have to go…"

"I love you."

A slightly panicked look crosses Ryan's face, "Really?"

Seth looks down, fiddling with his hands, "Would it make you stay?"

"I don't think so," Ryan mutters after a rather extended pause, "I have to, I mean I… I want to stay. You know that."

"Do I?" Seth snaps bitterly, "'Cause you haven't really says anything. At all. Just you have to go, obligation and all that shi…"

"You think I want this?" Ryan is shaking, his eyes bright and incredulous, "You don't know…"

It was Seth's turn to interrupt, "I don't know?! Who the hell do you think's losing you?" Seth's fingers began to cramp up from being played with, but he just gritted his teeth, "I don't mean to be gay, like, in a homosexual way but…"

Suddenly, he's engulfed in a wifebeater and Ryan's arms. He reacted immediately, hanging on tight, "_You_ don't mean to be gay?" Ryan says sarcastically, his voice thick.

Seth's eyes flew open with sudden clarity, _"I love you,"_ he says aloud into the cool air of his bedroom. It echoed, unanswered, and his ears began to hum with the silence. His fists gripped the bed sheets, unwilling to let Ryan go, but the dream was already fading from memory.

He wants to repeat it, he wants to say I love you again, but the door slides open and he sees his father. Sees his face and knows he can't go back, even as his father moves forwards, towards the bed, towards him.

His mother dies the next day.

* * *

Seth finds her. She's hunched over the Arts & Entertainment section, her hands crushed into her solar plexus and her eyes unfocused on Garfield but unable to acknowledges the cat's cynicism. 

When he touches her, he can't stop, he pulls her closer, imagines her stirring but knowing it's not true, praying to a god that should have intervened before now.

Should have intervened before now, please.

His world tilts a little and Seth screams into his mother's neck. He's pulling her hair too tight, too tight, and something tears. Something tears and he can't stop. Not until his father throws him off her to the floor, a chunk of her hair in his fist.

"What did you do?" Sandy yells, "What did you _do_?!"

"Nothing!" he shouts, before a keening wail escapes his throat, "I didn't do _anything_!"

Should have intervened before now.

* * *

"Alcohol poisoning," the doctor says later, "She probably felt very little pain, probably just some nausea and dizziness, mostly numbed by the alcohol, and then she would have lost consciousness a few minutes before the death." 

"Was there something we could have done?" Sandy asks gravely.

"No." Yes. "Not unless you'd stopped her have that final drink." If you'd cared.

Sandy puts his arm around Seth's shoulders as they leave.

"Touch me again," he says thickly, "And I'll kill you."

Sandy removes his arm.

* * *

Summer breaks into his house an hour after she gets the news. 

"Get up," she says throatily, "Get up, you're coming with me."

He decides to lay there, and his mouth won't move.

"Seth," she whispers, her voice breaking, "You can't stay here, please take my hand and come with me."

He gets up, closes his eyes, before they fly open and his hand reaches up and slaps her on the face. She gasps and holds her cheek, tears glimmering on her eyes that already say forgiveness.

He looks at his slightly reddened palm and blinks, "I…"

"I know. Please come with me Seth, please," she says, her shaking hand once again held out to him.

He takes it, then breaks three of her fingers. They gasp at the same time, but Summer is the only one who sobs in pain, stumbles, and runs away.

"I'm sorry!" he screams to the slammed door, before he punches straight through it.

* * *

He looks into Marissa's face, and he can almost imagine the glimmering sand that separated them so long ago, and he laughs as tears cut through him. 

She doesn't join in. She doesn't do anything. She doesn't even breathe.

He does, into her hair, "I'm sorry. I wish I was stronger for you."

Marissa isn't even alive and she knows that statement wasn't for her.

* * *

He loves Summer. He loves everything about her, and god, she loves him. Loves. Loved. Or something. 

But something is different, he acknowledges as he looks upon her blood-spattered tweety bird pyjamas. Something's changed.

He kisses her icy lips gently, but doesn't recall much else.

* * *

"I don't mean to be gay, like, in a homosexual way but…" 

Suddenly, he's engulfed in a wifebeater and Ryan's arms. He reacted immediately, hanging on tight, "_You_ don't mean to be gay?" Ryan says sarcastically, his voice thick.

"I love you," he whispers, his breath fogging in the frigid night air.

He won't remember it later, but he kisses Ryan too. Ryan's lips, swollen with death, don't respond, but he imagines they do.

They're hot, and wet, and he tastes like warm gravy and a heat that overwhelms. Ryan holds him close, protecting him and loving him, his hands sliding up to play with Seth's hair because he's always wanted to do that. Yeah.

"I love you," Ryan mumbles shyly, his eyes big and blue and adoring.

Seth smiles so hard he can feel his face splitting, "I love you too, dude."

Seth leans against him, snuggling into his shoulders as red and blue lights flash around them. Seth can't seem the lights, he can only feel the warmth.

Finally.

_Fin._


End file.
